Glad that he’s all in on my plan today, I nod. “I think the temporary shelter is good for now. Spreading out the wood sounds like a great first step. But has your stomach settled?”
Elliot smiles again. “Nothing but regular old starvation pangs.”
“Okay,” I say as I summon my energy. “Breakfast?”
“More mushrooms and dandelions?” he asks.
“Even better. It’s almost low tide. We’ll have seaweed for breakfast. Maybe shellfish, too.”
Elliot’s eyes light up. “Really?”
The joy on his face helps to boost my mood.
“Come on. I’ll show you what I know about sea lettuce and clams. Maybe we’ll be lucky and find a feast.”
“This is so cool,” Elliot says, walking straight into the water. “Tell me what I’m looking for.”
For the next hour or two, we busy ourselves gathering seaweed in our underwear. The idea that sea water is good for wounds doesn’t quite hold, but in this particular case, it seems to ease my bite. Elliot stays out in the waves, going from rock to rock in his search for the sea lettuce. I meet him there and take the leafy algae to carry to the creek, letting it soak in the fresh water until it’s bright green.
When we eat, Elliot describes the flavor aspiquant, which I like, and the air warms, although the rain keeps pattering on and off.
A boat sails far in the distance, and a plane soars overhead just a bit too high to see us.
“We’ll probably spot a search plane today,” Elliot says.
I nearly voice my skepticism, pointing out that no plane came yesterday. But we’ve taken a step in the right direction, so I give him a firm nod. “We very well might.”
“Back to our cliff sweet cliff?” he asks.
“There’s no place like rock,” I say, and he laughs.
We walk slowly back toward our dry spot. The algae is nutritious, and I’m slightly revived, but still too tired to think clearly.
My thoughts bounce through the past couple days, reliving the terrifying moments in flashes. So much has happened. I’m still trying to process it all.
When we arrive to the cliff, I see that Elliot has laid our clothes out again, spread in the dry area. He walks straight over and pinches his pants.
“Still damp,” he says. “But we could gather rocks in the rain.” His mouth twitches, and I think he’s suppressing a sigh. “I guess. Should I try to make us new shoes from the rest of the cattails first? I know you can’t tie a knot with one hand.”
“Good idea. And as I consider it, a fresh rain does lower our fire risk substantially. Maybe we can skip the rocks for now.”
Elliot turns his attention to the cattails as the rain sprinkles down. “Cool. In that case, let’s forage and stock up for our big day first.” He gestures toward my foot, ready with a fabric tatter.
I hitch my underwear up and stick my foot out, appreciating the teamwork. Our odds of survival feel marginal today, a marked improvement. When Elliot quickly and efficiently starts to tie the makeshift shoe in place, I even smile.
“Foraging it is,” I agree, “and then on to the fire.”
